


Of Birds and Feathers

by bejeweeled



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Heinoustuck, Angst, Heinoustuck - Freeform, Homestuck - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, real fucked up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 11:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12232218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bejeweeled/pseuds/bejeweeled
Summary: The world was silent. The world was scared of what it had created. The world was scared of what it had made.In the inky depths of the thick, overgrown cities, there lived the transmutations. They hadn't always been there. They were created. It was how the world worked. There was crimson blood littered and mixed into old, deteriorating leaves. Nothing stirred. Everything smelled like metal. Everything tastes like metal.You can't see.





	Of Birds and Feathers

**Author's Note:**

> just a little oneshot for my first work on ao3-
> 
> enjoy!

The world was silent. The world was scared of what it had created. The world was scared of what it had made.

In the inky depths of the thick, overgrown cities, there lived the transmutations. They hadn't always been there. Society made them. Society then looked down on them. It was how the world worked. There was crimson blood littered and mixed into old, deteriorating leaves. Nothing stirred. Everything smelled like metal. Everything tastes like metal.

You can't see. 

You sit up and let your chalky hands run over the mask stitched to your face with rough fabric. You feel blood. You almost forgot that you were like this. What is your name? You couldn't remember. You chose not to. You winced as you brought yourself to stand up, stretching out your wings. Your wings? Humans don't have wings.

Oh yeah, you aren't human. You've been told this enough, you recall. Someone has told you this before. But who? You didn't care. You will tell this to yourself. You aren't human. But you are normal in your discombobulated mess of a society, and that's all you cared about. You couldn't remember when you last felt like you actually fit in. Maybe because you can't remember anything at all. You should give yourself to remember why you were sitting in a pile of your own blood.

**Be someone else, in significantly less pain ⇒**

You wipe at the green slime oozing out of your eye.

Today just happens to be your birthday, but sadly, you can't find your friend. 

From what you can remember, your friend has blonde hair and a sword through their stomach. A mask, maybe? Yes, they definitely have one of those plague doctor looking masks. It's pretty cool, you think, but you can barely see. It would be way easier to find your kind of feathered friend if they weren't off by themselves like their antisocial selves. It's not easy to socialize after the outbreak of kidnappings and mutations, in that exact order. 

You, unlike your friend, can remember your name. 

Your name is John Egbert. 

No, your name isn't John Egbert. It's John.

 

You don't have a last name, you were told you were too useless to have a last name. 

 

Anyways, now you are in charge of finding your friend. You decided on following the trail of deep black feathers, which looked fairly new, to find your friend. The only friend you knew actually trusted you. You trusted him. Even though you hurt him a lot, he still trusted you. You still trusted him.

It was better when he never fought back.

**Be the winged clad⇒**

You've been given the time to remember some facts you would rather not remember. Your friend hurt you again, Your best friend. He likes it when he hurts you, this you knew all too well. You didn't want to fight back. you didn't want him hurt. 

The worst part was, you know all too well you could kill him.

He was far weaker than you, and he would be out with a hit.

So you didn't fight back. You had your reasons, in which were far too classified for you to even believe. There was no such thing as love in this apocalyptic world. This was a well-known fact, society had decided. Society made the answers. Society made the rules. Surely, there was no bending them. God forbid what would happen if you were caught holding someone's hand.

You know what society had wanted with their creation. They wanted chaos. This is why nothing was done. This is why you were a raven mutant.

Your name is Dave, and you give up.

You give up on trying to keep your calm. You need to confess. Or, you need to fight back. You prefer the prior. 

You would rather say that you've fallen for your abusive best and get beaten to death than beat your best friend to death. 

The options were running thinner, and the opportunities have stopped flowing and have fallen into a slow trickle. How lucky. How lucky You had been. How many opportunities that have been washed away from your callused fingers was uncanny. Your life was ironic. It was very cliche and horrible and you didn't want to live. 

That got depressing, but it was beyond true. The truth hit him hard. What else was there to even live for? You sat there, your blurry vision coming back into tact. Your ripped, bi-colored pants, your talon-like hands, your blood-soaked torso. You were a mess with a sword through your torso and you hated it beyond belief. 

You looked up and made out a silhouette in the dark of the early morning sunrise. Or maybe it was the evening nightfall. Either one meant that you were screwed.

"I-I'm sorry-" you managed to slightly whimper, your wings quivering. A few stray feathers fell into your lap. You decided to not swat them away as you kept your gaze down. 

Your friend looks down at you, kneeling down. They used their one arm to touch your leg. You pull it away. "Shush it's just John," he said, trying to sound reassuring. You weren't buying it. He didn't care. You were a freak. Sure, you were both freaks, but you were worse. You acted like a freak. Out of order from everyone else. That made you the most freakish of them all. Your eyes fogged up again, a tear streaming down your face. "I'm sorry-" you say again, like it's the only phrase you know. "Please don't hurt me." 

You sounded weak. 

You hated it.

**Be John== > **

You tried, you tried so hard to convince Dave that you weren't there to hit him. 

He wouldn't listen. 

That made you _so_ angry, but you couldn't show it. No, you weren't angry. You were fine. 

You needed to comfort him. You brought him into a foreign embrace. A hug, yes, that's what it is. You couldn't remember the last time you had a hug. And it felt good. You brought him as close to you as you could, especially with the fact that he had a sword in his stomach and you only had 1 arm, but you made do. You wondered how much trouble you would be in. You didn't care.

He shook under your touch, looking up. You couldn't tell his expression. His mask rubbed the bottom of your chin. You didn't care. You didn't hit. 

For once, you felt peace. In order. Calm. 

He tightly mingled his arms around your body, still shaking. You couldn't bring yourself to tell him those three words that could help you be different. Rise in the hierarchy. He, on the other hand, could. 

"I-I love you," he said quietly. "But you hurt me. It's not fair."

You took the moment of silence after his confession for your thoughts to race. It wasn't fair, that was true. It wasn't fair that you always hurt him. But it was like you were meant to hurt him. You were meant to feel clots of his blood in your hand, and on your face. In your hair, and mixed up with your own in a twisted pile in some dark point of the wood. You were programmed that way, to know how to always hurt. 

Your name is John, and you will work your way around the system. Though, it may cost you your life.

**== >**

You flutter your wings as you don't get a response.

This was it.

You were going to die. 

You were going to be beaten.

Choked to death, maybe?

No, instead you were pulled deeper into an embrace. You choked a bit and looked down, flustered. 

"I love you too." 

That was the one thing you needed to hear. Tears started to run down your cheeks and down under your mask. 

He cared.

He cared and that was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry that was so horrible to write--  
> im so sad now smh


End file.
